


the net i wove from these arms (how to save a life)

by streetlightsky



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetlightsky/pseuds/streetlightsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The last time they saw each other, he dropped her out of the Bus and into the deep and unforgiving ocean.</i>
</p>
<p>Post HYDRA betrayal. Five times Grant 'catches' Jemma. But who's really doing the saving?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the net i wove from these arms (how to save a life)

**Author's Note:**

> Largely ignores the first season finale, but canon through Ragtag. At this rate, I'm never going to get through my multi-chapter fics. Characters and general universe don't belong to me. Errors, grammatical or factual, intended or not, do belong to me.

1.

Grant didn’t understand why he was still alive.

The moment he put his hands up in surrender, they swarmed him with men and guns. They stripped him of every conceivable weapon and all his gear and clothing except for the immediate attire clinging to his skin in the hot and humid weather. He wasn’t just cuffed. He was bound and chained so he could barely take a normal step without stumbling. That was probably intentional considering the agents’ penchant to physically drag him around like a useless object. They would’ve put a bag over his head too, but given that he already knew the Hub’s location, it was futile.

HYDRA was surely becoming a sinking ship and with Garrett dead, there was no reason to stick around any longer. So, in broad daylight, in the middle of a desperate, last-ditch effort to infiltrate another facility, he decided to walk. Crossed guys off, stole a plane, eliminated any and all tracking devices, and flew as far as he could to distance himself from the crazy.

He didn’t call S.H.I.E.L.D. to come get him, but made it easy enough for them to spot one lonesome and nonviolent aircraft of the enemy floating around what was clearly their territory. Thus he was shackled, taken from one transport, and shoved onto another now flying him to meet his fate in the hands of his former colleagues and handlers.

But he was still breathing. And by pure logic, there was no point in keeping him alive just to let the authorities give the go-ahead on an obvious execution. If roles were reversed, HYDRA would’ve shot him dead on sight without blinking.

It was the only thought that continued to replay in his mind as he was marched down the ramp and into the hallways of the Hub: what was left in the meaning of his existence if there ever had been anything at all. The parade no doubt garnered malicious looks and insults, evidently deliberate to further demoralize and dehumanize him. But it wasn’t anymore bothersome than the abuse he previously suffered.

He wasn’t a man in anyone’s eyes. He wasn’t even a traitor. He was worse. He was nothing at all.

By pure and absolute chance, his walk-of-shame met her group of scientists. From all the members of his former team, she was the first one he saw. Not Coulson, though that meeting being his imminent destination. Not May because then he really would be dead. Not Skye or Fitz if they were still alive. But her.

The last time they saw each other, he dropped her out of the Bus and into the deep and unforgiving ocean.

She froze mid-step and stared – confused, appalled, afraid. He didn’t know what else to do but the same – solemn, uncertain, ashamed.

“Oh my Lord…”

He could never erase the look of horror and panic on her face from his mind when the medical pod receded into the impending skies.

Under the circumstances, her reaction wasn’t a surprise. But when her eyes rolled back and body began to tip to the ground, the ache was hard to deny, even as he threw his arms out and caught her before she fell.

They were all over him in an instant. He hadn’t even properly set her down yet when he found his nose jammed into the wall and the barrel of a pistol rammed into his side. Others were aimed at his shoulders and legs, but they still wouldn’t shoot.

They didn’t get it. He wasn’t going to take her. He wasn’t going to fight either. He just wanted everything to be over.

When Grant peered over his shoulder to get a glimpse of her, she was already gone.

 

2.

She yelped and it was automatic. No contemplation. No hesitation. His movements were instinctual.

Grant had implicitly asked for death and all they gave him was a hot, cramped cell much too small for a man of his size and capabilities. He was a caged animal forced to accept a hollow life of solitude and disgrace. He wondered if that was the only reason he was being kept alive – so they could bask and gloat in their glory. Then again, he had given himself up rather easily. His capture was hardly a victory.

The glaring section of his rap sheet, other than secretly working for HYDRA, was that he killed Hand. Never mind all the other agents callously slain by his hand, though they would be missed. Murdering a superior officer in cold blood was the highest offense of betrayal and indecency.

He didn’t deserve death, they said. Yet the hole he now resided in resembled a familiar grave he once stared at for too long.

They would never give him what he wanted. They would never leave him in peace.

No one ever came to see him. With food and water delivered through the thick steel door and a toilet of sorts already built in, there was no need. It was the point. And while he had experience with loneliness and isolation, he wasn’t at rest knowing what he knew now.

He counted sixty-eight days in lockup, fifty-two since encountering another person. So naturally, he was surprised when they brought him out for sunlight and under Coulson’s orders, no less. But what was more perplexing was that she was there again and this time, completely alone.

She had this thing – this look of concentration and absolute engagement with her work. Words flew out of her mouth, usually to Fitz, but now to herself in attempt to decipher the mystery they had imported. She noticed nothing and no one other than the specimens she crouched over. The only problem was, there was too much space below her.

And one wrong step had her tumbling through air once more.

His heart bulged in his throat as he watched all the pain and misery he relived in his mind everyday become reality again.

Chains be damned, he slid right underneath, hands and arms ready to embrace her, to break her fall, to do anything to save her. He wouldn’t let her suffer from his faults anymore. They ended up toppling to the ground from her momentum. She effectively used him as a mat, as a safety net. She could probably use him for anything and he would comply.

Their eyes connected for flash too short. He saw the fear still there, still active. He wanted to reassure her and tried to, but it was too late. She scrambled away as they pried her off and kept him pinned down.

The weight was different. Before, it had been welcome – one he had no trouble accepting. Now, it was a reminder, a burden.

He was still a criminal in their opinion, in hers. Perhaps that was why she was afraid. He had put the fright there in the first place.

But even with his face in the gravel, his arms twisted behind his back, and his legs held down, all he could think about was her.

“Are you okay?” he dared to ask when they pulled him up. Her body was slouched inward with arms folded and gaze far away from his. She never looked so distant.

“Stay away from me.”

It rang in his ears after he turned away, after they separated paths, after he was locked back in his cell. She didn’t want his help. She didn’t want him around at all. And he got that. He deserved it. But that didn’t make it any easier for him to swallow.

That, out of everything he had done, was what Grant regretted, what he hated most about himself.

 

3.

The first time they made use of him, Grant knew that it wasn’t because of his knack for extraction plans.

One hundred and eight days and three heavily guarded trips for fresh air later, S.H.I.E.L.D. finally decided that keeping a prisoner alive was only beneficial if they collected something in return. He figured out after his second excursion that Coulson was the person in charge of any liberties he received. No one else would show such compassion, especially during a war.

Yet as much as it was a consideration, it was also a test of loyalty. On the off chance that he was still rooting for HYDRA, they needed to pick the right time, the right job, the right cause. He knew how they operated, after all. He knew there was a camera documenting his every move. He knew they were watching him eat, sleep, think.

He wasn’t a secret weapon. He was a bug under their microscope.

Shackled and escorted by his usual entourage of security, he entered operations to no friendly faces. Every single agent glared lasers except Coulson, but his expression wasn’t one of cordiality. He wondered how long his former team leader had waited before making up his mind and how long after that to actually bring him in.

With one look at the front screen, though, he knew instantly why he had been chosen for this assignment.

“Can you get them out?”

He nodded. It wasn’t even a question to consider.

They handed him an earpiece, but he refused it. His voice wasn’t the one they wanted to hear. They just needed information out of him and that was what he would give.

The base they were at was all too familiar; he was the one that had infiltrated it. The feeds had gone black except for the hidden camera pinned on their clothes. The video was dark, but he could make out their faces. Skye, still alive and still far too inexperienced in his opinion, led the escape while Coulson relayed the best routes to take. Left. Right. Down that– wait, no! Behind that door! Left. Next corner. Keep going. Keep going…

He didn’t get to see them meet the rescue squad before the overly eager agents pushed him out of the room and back to his cell. But it was enough. They had presented him with an opportunity to keep all his promises, or at least, to try and redeem their worth. He had to honor her word as well and if this was how he could do both, then so be it.

Coulson came down later, the first real visitor in his new humble abode. He hadn’t expected an update, merely assuming that if they left him alone, all went accordingly. He had no reason to believe things went south afterwards either. Nonetheless, an inkling of worry coursed through his veins now that his old supervising officer was there and it wasn’t his performance he was concerned about.

“Is she okay?” He knew that Coulson knew whom he was referring to. She was why he was included in the process.

“She’s fine. You saved her.”

The truth sounded a lot better than he actually was. He was far from being a hero. He was far from earning their respect. He wasn’t even sure he was willing to fight for their side.

There was only one reason Grant gave himself up and was still here. He knew it. Coulson knew it.

“She doesn’t see it that way.”

 

4.

Grant never had a sense of optimism – never indulged, fantasized, or illuded himself into conjuring up more for his life. So when she scampered into his temporary quarter, he knew there was something wrong.

He had done his very best to stay out of everyone’s hairs. He was always good at being invisible and hiding in plain sight. They hadn’t forgotten about him, though, the way he half-expected them to. He still received his two meals per day and was given another full inspection. Other than that, they left him in isolation. He could only guess that the Fridge was being relocated and rebuilt. Once they took care of the HYDRA problem, more effort would be put into organizing the organization, or what remained of it. Then they would figure out what to really do with him.

He wasn’t stupid. If it wasn’t some form of prison, it had to be death. They wouldn’t allow him to run rampant and cause chaos with the amount of knowledge and skills he possessed. But if he wanted to live an anonymous life, he wouldn’t have come back. And if S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted him out of the equation, they would’ve already eliminated him.

The questions might not ever get their answers. He wasn’t in a position to ask anyone anyway.

The day before his bicentennial in penitentiary, guards came to bring him out. They followed the same routine of securing his hands and feet, but he could tell this wasn’t for some run-of-the-mill vitamin D exposure, especially since they led him to the hangar and onto the Bus.

Coulson was running the show; it was his plane. And he knew, where Coulson usually went, so did she.

For him, it was more of the same – the most secure room, the glass compartment, the silence. He didn’t care to entertain ideas about their destination or mission. The objective was identical to the previous one. If they needed him, he would oblige.

His reflexes were still tact – instinctual after all this time. The moment she stepped in and secured the door behind her, he was alert. His eyes were watchful, mind was clear. He gave her his undivided attention because she deserved it, and because there was a gun in her hand and panic in her expression.

He had wanted to see her. Just not under these circumstances.

“What’s wrong?”

Her gaze darted constantly between him and the door as he waited. The stillness was disturbed by an overwhelming sense of uncertainty and confliction. She had choices to make that were not in her area of expertise and he did not make it any easier despite his intentions and commitments.

The palpable tension was broken by a blast and the sound of men in boots. He watched as she was torn between taking labored breaths and not breathing at all. The weapon was useless in her hands.

This was why he was brought on board.

“Simmons.”

The implication was obvious. Regardless if she came here on purpose or by sheer coincidence, it was in her favor. He could help. He was supposed to help. Coulson entrusted him with this task, but he never had to be asked.

“I can help you.”

The footsteps grew louder and harsher. He could see her thinking, weighing the options, wondering if the others would make it back in time to alleviate her predicament. He knew he was asking a lot of her, putting her in a position she wasn’t comfortable with. She had no reason to trust him. But she needed to know. She needed to understand that he would never let her fall again.

“I can protect you, Jemma. Let me.”

It was the first time he had ever used her given name. And it seemed to be the trigger – to give her some comfort, if possible, that they were familiar and to indicate that he was on her side.

She swiped her card and the glass door slid open. Standing in front of her face to face without the barrier in between, he looked at her pensively before gently taking the gun from her trembling hands into his own.

“Stay close.”

Grant didn’t know how many men there were. He just knew they would never get to her.

 

5.

In that instant, Grant knew nothing other than desperation.

The speeding rate of the bullet and the unmistakable target stopped all his senses. Gone was the logic that kept his mind rational and inquisitive. Gone was the awareness and observation of his surroundings. Gone was the compliance to be less than a fly on the wall.

He had felt this impulse before. It was the only thing keeping him sane.

He remembered her yelps when she dropped through the skies with the Chitauri virus in her system. Recognizing her course of action, he raced out of the command center, bypassed all the stairs, and threw himself after her without thinking.

It hadn’t been about what side they were on or the chances of survival. It was about the unquestionable compulsion to save a life that meant something more than just war and science.

Never once did she question his decision and he was grateful. He couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t even sure if he understood himself. So he let the ulterior motives mask the issue. He let others commandeer his life like they always did. If it wasn’t his parents, his brother, Garrett, HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D, it was something or someone else. There was never time for sentimentalities, for weaknesses.

She was a weakness.

He could still hear her terrified pleas when he let her fall into the ocean. It was an order, one he creatively executed. But as she sunk to the depths of the abyss, so did the remaining parts of his humanity – taken down in an acquiescent goodbye.

The twisted relief came from knowing that she held his soul down there – the fragile fragments he kept safeguard all this time for the simple sliver of hope he childishly still believed in. He would be protected and unharmed with her. And so if he never saw her face again, at least he knew Grant Ward wouldn’t die alone.

Until, of course, she resurfaced and paralyzed him with the numbing ache of regret. The realization of his selfish tendencies, to use and dispose of anyone for his own benefit, struck him hard in the form of her damaged innocence. He was the perpetrator. He was the one that broke her. He was the reason she would never look at him the same way again.

But he didn’t need forgiveness. He didn’t need or want redemption either. He just needed her alive and well – to be the person she always was despite his egregious errors.

The world needed her, not him.

He stepped in front of her right as the trigger was pulled. There was no time to dramatically push her aside or try and take out the assailant. There was only one reaction.

There was only Jemma.

The impact was nothing worse than what he had previously done himself. He had taken plenty of bullets before. The difference this time was that it was willingly.

Ironically, the aggressor fell to his knees before he did. Reluctant to go down so easily, Grant fought for stability and insisted to himself that he would stay awake as long as possible to see things through. It was the least he could do. It was all he could do.

Yet when he faltered, he didn’t mind that much. Between the blood and the chaos, the hard ground and burning debris, there was a cushion. There was comfort and clarity and a sweet voice telling him, “Hold on. Just hold on…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jemma couldn’t bring herself to go and see him.

After her team surrounded her at the site of injury, after she thoroughly explained that it wasn’t her blood staining her skin and clothes, after she insisted that he be treated, after she scrubbed her hands under water until the red turned white and then pink, after the doctors announced the surgery a success, she kept herself rooted in her seat.

She didn’t know how many more near death experiences she could take. She didn’t know how much more of this push and pull she could endure.

Everyone else had already gone or gone in once the news of his health was out. Fitz, of course, promptly left. Coulson went in for a lengthy discussion with May standing in as well. Skye saw him too, though her visit was extremely brief. But she remained in the waiting area and stared at the carpet and magazines and people as time passed. She wasn’t ready to deal with things. She didn’t know how to act.

This was not the first time he had saved her life. This was just the first time she wondered why.

“Do you want to see him?” Coulson, by her side now, looked at her openly.

“I don’t know if I can.” She didn’t have the courage and independence Skye had – to live by her own rules and hold nothing back. But she wasn’t as hardheaded as Fitz who was staunch on his stance once he made up his mind. She wavered on this border, this edge between being relieved he had been there and angered by the way he did things.

She didn’t understand his motives. She didn’t comprehend his reasoning. She didn’t think she knew him at all.

“Take your time. Whatever you do, I know it’ll be the right decision,” Coulson said and put a hand on her shoulder before leaving her in peace. “If it helps, he’s been asking for you. Not directly, but, you know, we could tell.”

That ultimately carried her over the threshold. She would hesitate at the door, but the endless questions that couldn’t stay unanswered anymore pushed her through.

He looked at her the moment she stepped inside. He raised his arms to try and push himself upright, but dropped them back down with the sound of his metal handcuffs against the metal bed rails.

“Are you okay?” The answer was no. With him, the answer would always be no.

Couldn’t he understand that he was her undoing? Couldn’t he see that she was broken? Didn’t he get that he had damaged her? That she had cracked because of him? That she was lost and faithless? That his betrayal wasn’t just from organization to organization? Because it wasn’t.

It was personal.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“Why what?”

“Why are you here? Out of all of places you could’ve gone, you decided to come back. Why?”

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

She glared, showing fire for the first time since his return. “You’re a liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

She didn’t know what to believe. Words could be so convincing coming from his mouth, but he had done that before and fooled everyone. What was different this time if anything at all?

“Why did you save me?” It was another simple question, but filled with underlying meanings she hoped to uncover.

“I told you I’d catch you.”

“So? Why fulfill a promise you already broke?” she cried indignantly. It wasn’t the only thing he broke that day.

When he didn’t respond, she knew there was much more below the surface. He was full of secrets and lies. He purposely tangled himself in them, wrapped and covered himself in them to hide the truth, a horrible truth that he was seemingly afraid to reveal – one that Jemma perhaps already knew.

“Just be honest for once. Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you.”

“So you can catch me?”

“No,” he said. “Because you’ve been saving me all along.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm personally not fond of the little coda part I wrote, but felt it was necessary to prevent the likely uproar for ending the fic after part five, haha. If you guys could give feedback on that, that would be wonderful!


End file.
